Challenging Fate
by PathOfThorns
Summary: Crossover fic btw Sherlock, Merlin, SPN, and HG. Sherlock, John, Sam, Dean, Merlin, and Arthur have been thrust into the annual Hunger Games, and the only way to get out is to kill the others. Loyalties are tested and friendships are forged as each man is forced to kill. Who will remain the last man standing? R&R plz summary sucks I know
1. Chapter 1

**(super long) A/N: I know that I have about 5 unfinished SPN fanfics, but I'm sorry, my SPN muse has fled me for the time being. I will eventually finish those one day, but my muse decided to attack me with this idea instead. It was inspired by the vid on YT by Deductism. Her vid is amazing in every way and it's a SuperWhoLockIn vid to Hunger Games, and the idea was so interesting that I just had to give it a try. I apologize beforehand though because I've never seen Doctor Who before, so I decided to leave the Doctor out of this story so I didn't butcher his character. I've also never written Sherlock, John, Merlin, or Arthur before so I'll give it my best. :D I'm also going to say beforehand that this is NOT a death!fic for any character, but there will be whump for most of them. (it's the Hunger Games, come on) hope you enjoy this and please please please let me know what you think of this.  
Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock, Supernatural, Merlin, or the Hunger Games and I sadly never will**

How did they get here?

What kind of twisted reality had they been thrust into this time?

'_Courageous Tributes, each of you have been gathered here from distant lands to take part in the annual Hunger Games. The time to prove your worth has come. You may notice how each of you stand on a metal plate. That plate serves as your starting point. If you any one of you steps off of them, then please take note that you will be taken out immediately.'_

A woman's voice, as warm as the sun, rang out in the clearing in which they all stood. Confused glances were silently passed between them as each man took in their surroundings. As the voice had said, small metal plates lied under their feet, but beyond the disks lay a vast plain of grass that bled into a looming forest. Curious eyes swept over the landscape, revealing that they all stood in what looked to be a grassy clearing surrounded by woods.

Just as they began to shift uncomfortably, the voice rang out again.

'_You have one goal here. In order to win the Games, you must remain the last man standing. Kill your opponents, and you walk free.'_

Horror filled every man's eyes at the revelation, and quick glances were exchanged between the tributes.

'_Oh but don't fret, in order to make things more interesting, each of you will have the opportunity to gain a little outside help. By that I mean that if you prove yourself to your viewers, then you may just gain yourself a Sponsor. Your Sponsor can send you things that may end up saving your life in the long run, so remember to keep that in mind._

_One last thing brave Tributes, at the center of the clearing in which you stand lies a Cornucopia filled with weapons and a variety of other items to help you survive. Once the timer hits zero, you may exit your plate and attempt to obtain these items. _

_Remember, survival is your only key to escaping. Best of luck to you all, and may the odds be ever in your favor.'_

As soon as the woman's cheerful voice faded, all eyes landed on the pile of supplies that was stacked in the mouth of the Cornucopia.

_Ten._ A monotonous voice declared from nowhere in particular.

Feet shuffled nervously.

_Nine._

Eyes sought out familiar faces.

_Eight._

Silent agreements were made.

_Seven._

Reassuring nods were exchanged.

_Six._

Hands clenched in anticipation.

_Five._

Sweat streamed down.

_Four._

Muscles tightened

_Three._

Breaths were exhaled.

_Two._

Adrenaline coursed through veins.

_One._

Confusion was pushed aside.

_Zero._

All Hell broke loose.

**~()~()~()~()~()~**

Dean liked to pride himself on the fact that he was able to adapt to almost anything. Hell, he faced zombies, wendigos, ghosts, lamias, vampires, werewolves, and freaking dragons before, but none of that could have ever hoped to prepare him for what was happening now.

As soon as the wretched voice had spoken that last number, everyone in the clearing burst into chaotic movement as they scrambled for the Cornucopia.

Letting his instincts take over, Dean too burst into action as his powerful legs tore across the open expanse of grass separating him from the supplies. Adrenaline leant speed to his feet, and before he knew it he was at his destination.

Before he was able to grab any of the packs, though, a flurry of movement on his right had him rethinking his strategy and grabbing the nearest weapon to him. Spinning toward the possible threat, Dean brandished the massive hunting knife as he took up an offensive position.

The man that stood in front of him looked more like a boy in appearance, but the fierce, proud look in his bright blue eyes spoke of experience beyond his age. Blonde hair highlighted the man's fair skin and gave him a deceivingly charming appearance, and the strange outfit the man wore made him look like a knight from medieval times.

The large sword held in his hands looked as if it were created for him and him alone, and even Dean had to admire the beautiful blade.

Green eyes locked with blue ones in a battle of wits as both men stood their ground, neither willing to make the first move. Dean could read the hesitancy in the man's eyes that was no doubt reflected in his own. He had no desire to kill anyone, and from the look in the other Tributes eyes, neither did he.

Was he really expected to kill these other men simply because some voice had declared it? Dean only took orders from one man, and that man died years ago protecting him.

**~()~()~()~()~**

Arthur knew beyond the shadow of a doubt that he was the strongest, fastest, and most agile knights in all of Camelot, so it came as no surprise to him that he reached the Cornucopia first. What did surprise him, however, was that another man had managed to match his speed the entire way.

Instinctively, his hand found the one sword in the pile of weapons before him, and without a moment of hesitation, Arthur had the blade poised at the other man.

With reflexes as fast as Arthur's own, the other Tribute snatched up a wicked looking hunter's knife and met Arthur's blade with his own. Running his eyes over the other man, Arthur sized up his potential enemy.

Cropped, dirty blonde hair looked almost brown in the shade of the Cornucopia, but the man's green eyes practically glowed from lowered brows. There was something dangerous about the man in front of him, who stood a few inches taller than him, but Arthur was confident that his sword skills could defeat any enemy he crossed.

Tightening his grip on the leather hilt, Arthur hefted the sword higher and raised his eyes to meet the other man's. Arthur had no idea why he was here, or how he had gotten here even, but now he was suddenly being forced to kill others?

The notion didn't sit well with him, taking another's life never did, but if his hand was forced, he had no doubt that he could best his opponent.

**~()~()~()~()~**

Unlike the other Tributes in the clearing, Sherlock decided against heading for the Cornucopia and instead backed away towards the cover of the woods. Before the clock had even begun its countdown, he had already learned everything he needed to know about the other contestants, and he knew that it would be pointless to engage them in any form of combat at this point in time.

"John!" He shouted for his friend, the slowest of the other tributes, and gestured at him to follow.

The army doctor stopped his advance towards the Cornucopia and looked back at Sherlock confusedly. Gesturing again, impatiently this time, Sherlock continued his retreat to the woods without another glance at John.

Soon enough the sound of footsteps thumped behind him, as he knew they would, and the two vanished into the cover of the trees.

**~()~()~()~()~**

John Watson had no idea why Sherlock decided against acquiring supplies at the Cornucopia, but he trusted his friend's judgement, which is why he found himself turning away from the clearing and following Sherlock into the forest.

As soon as Sherlock deemed it safe, they slowed their pace and came to a stop behind a tree.

"Why didn't we go towards the Cornucopia? Sherlock, we need those supplies." John said as he attempted to regain his lost breath.

"Think, John. With all those experienced fighters in one place, we'd have never gotten anything without paying with our lives." Sherlock straightened his coat and brushed off imaginary dirt as he leaned against the trunk.

"What makes you think they're all experienced? Hell, _we're_ experienced Sherlock. Surely we could have gotten _something_. Who knows what was in those packages."

"No." Sherlock stated firmly. "Those two men, the brothers, the way they held themselves says hunters or fighters. Obviously experienced in some form of tracking due to the way they walked, too lightly for men of that height, and a simple recreational hunter wouldn't have achieved that level of stealth, not without years of training, so the obvious explanation points to hunters or fighters of some kind but probably hunters because of the mud and dirt on their clothes and shoes. The mud was dry so it wasn't found here, which only means that they had been doing something in the woods before we were all unceremoniously dumped here. The way the mud is stuck on their boots says they've been hiking through a particularly wet part of the woods and fairly quickly too, hence they can only be hunters or possibly hikers but the way they held themselves on the plates says fighters and the only physically strong, quick, and yet light on their feet kind of person in the woods would be a hunter. And then there's the hair."

Pursing his lips and narrowing his eyes, John resigned himself to the long explanation that was bound to ensue.

"Well how do you know they're brothers?" He enquired.

Sherlock slid his blue eyes towards him. "Obvious, John. Even you could tell if you had only taken a moment to observe the way the shorter one looked at the taller one, and vice versa. The protectiveness in his eyes was there for all of us to see. Without even knowing it, he revealed his biggest weakness before this 'Game' had even begun. Love," Sherlock spoke with slight disgust, "Is a dangerous disadvantage."

John rolled his eyes but chose not to say anything on that matter. Peering around the trunk of the tree, he attempted to catch a glimpse of the clearing.

"Now the other two are slightly harder but the blonde man-"

"Sherlock, stop. You don't need to show off to me, I already know what you do is amazing. If you say they're experienced then I believe you." John cut him off before he could go off on another tangent.

A small smirk lifted the corner of Sherlock's mouth before he pushed off of the trunk and started walking again. "Come on, John. We should keep moving. We can return to the Cornucopia tomorrow. I'm sure the rest will have left or died by then."

Shaking his head, John suppressed the disturbing thought of killing the other innocent tributes and instead headed after the one man he could trust.

**~()~()~()~()~**

People always used to tell Sam that he wore his heart on his sleeve, and that he could be too nice for his own good at times, but it never bothered him. Sam liked to help people, and he never could turn his back on someone in need, so after the timer had struck zero, and after everyone had taken off in their own direction, Sam hung back a bit so that he wouldn't be forced into a situation he didn't want to find himself in.

He found himself instead watching Dean race across the grass in a mad attempt to reach the Cornucopia before the others. A proud smile lifted his lips when Dean made it there first, but the smile soon fell as he noticed another man was there too, pointing a deadly sword at his brother's chest. His feet were already moving before his brain had even given the command as fear swirled around his chest like a caged beast. Despite his reluctance to take another life, if anyone threatened Dean then Sam wouldn't even hesitate to end them.

His long legs made easy work of the distance between them but just as he was almost upon them his feet collided with something on the ground, taking him crashing to the floor.

A groan sounded from below him, and Sam cast a surprised look towards him feet to find one of the other Tributes also on the ground. The boy (because that's what he was, wasn't he?) had raven black hair and deep blue eyes. A red neckerchief hung at his neck and a rather plain blue shirt and brown jacket adorned the boy as he struggled to stand.

He blinked in surprise at how young the boy looked, younger than him that was for sure, before rolling over and standing up gracefully.

Immediately, Sam's hazel eyes sought out his brother. A sigh of what could only be relief escaped his lips when he saw that both men had yet to move. Taking another glance at the struggling boy, Sam reluctantly gave in and extended his hand in assistance.

"Merlin!" A strong voice cried out, and Sam turned his head to see the blonde Tribute racing towards him.

"Arthur." The raven haired boy breathed out in relief as he too turned towards the blonde Tribute.

There was a protectiveness in the blonde's – Arthur's – eyes that Sam recognized from Dean's own look. Quickly taking his hand back, Sam took a few steps away from the boy, Merlin.

"Sammy!" Dean's familiar voice boomed loudly, and within seconds he was at his side.

"Sam, you okay?" Concern laced his brother's voice as he ran his hand over Sam's shoulder, searching for any kind of wound.

"Dean, I'm fine, I swear." Sam pushed away the probing hand and turned his attention to the other two Tributes who stood before them.

Arthur had grabbed Merlin and pulled him to his feet, and the two stood facing the brothers with identical looks of caution in their blue eyes.

**~()~()~()~()~**

If there was any time to reveal his magic, then that time was now, as he stood shoulder to shoulder with Arthur, facing off with two dangerous looking men. Merlin could tell that the two men before him were deadly, and that if a fight did break out, then he wasn't so sure that Arthur would get out without a scratch.

The shorter one, Dean, as the other had called him, had a large hunter's knife clenched in his fist. The taller one, Sam, had no weapon, but Merlin was sure that his sheer size and brute strength could prove to be equally as dangerous.

"Arthur, we should run." Merlin shifted nervously.

"Let us get weapons and supplies." Arthur demanded, ignoring Merlin completely.

A wolfish smile spread across Dean's face. "Like Hell I'm letting you get anything. You want some of that?" He nodded towards the Cornucopia, "Then you gotta fight me for it. I'm not letting you get the upper hand in this."

Shifting the knife in his hand, Dean pointed it towards Arthur in challenge.

"Merlin." Arthur stated simply, but Merlin caught on with what he was implying.

"Don't get yourself killed." Merlin said before taking off towards the Cornucopia.

The sound of clashing blades met his ears but he refused to turn around. Arthur had given him a task and he was determined to complete it.

Arriving at the mouth of the Cornucopia, Merlin grabbed the nearest bag and turned to run back when a massive weight collided with him. His feet left the ground completely as he flew back several feet before slamming down into the earth.

The jarring blow knocked the bag from his nerveless fingers. Struggling to regain his senses, he quickly rolled over and sprang to his feet. After a moment of dizzying spinning, the world came into sharp focus once more.

"Sorry about that, but I can't let you take that bag." A voice spoke, and Merlin recognized it as Sam's.

Turning around, Merlin came face to face, or rather, face to chest, with the older Tribute. A gleam of metal to his left had him fixing his gaze on the short sword clenched in Sam's hand.

"Just walk away. I don't want to have to do this."

Merlin took a step back to put distance between them, but he didn't turn to run. Casting a quick glance back towards Arthur to make sure he wasn't looking, he raised his hand towards Sam, palm out.

The thrum of magic warmed his splayed fingers and danced along his outstretched arm.

"No. _You_ walk away." He warned.

The resolve in Sam's eyes was enough to confirm that neither of them was willing to give in, which meant there was only one path left to them.

With the crash of blades as their backdrop, the two Tributes reluctantly commenced in the Games.

**I didn't include Cas simply because I thought it would be unfair to have 3 SPN dudes and two from the other shows. He may show up later, though. Also, this chapter was just to set up each character really, which is why the weird formatting with each characters POV, I just wanted to write how each character initially reacted in the beginning. Following chapters will probably only be maybe two ppls POV, and will switch off each chapter, so like the second chapter would maybe be Dean's POV and Sherlock's POV, and the following would be Arthur's POV and Sam's POV or something. This is just a test, so if you don't like this idea then let me know and I'll trash it. If you want me to continue though, then please let me know, because I'm not too sure how this turned out. xD  
Please review, and constructive criticism is always welcome.**


	2. forging friendships

**I've decided to continue this, so here you go. Chapter 2  
Also, to AuroraKnight, the point you made about Sam knowing about Merlin and Arthur will indeed come up, I did think about that because of course Sam would know about them xD  
Anywho, here's the next chapter  
Disclaimer: Still don't own any involved, I only own my mistakes**

A burst of sparks showered off the colliding blades as metal met metal in a powerful collision. Held in a lock, Arthur stepped forward and slid his sword along the blade of Dean's knife, the resonating scream of steel piercing through the air like thunder.

Tightening his muscles, Arthur pushed at their locked blades and succeeded in knocking the older Tribute back. The look that crossed Dean's eyes was that of surprise mixed with outrage, and in the next instant he was closing the distance between them once again.

Quick as a snake, Dean lashed out with the large knife, swinging the blade at Arthur's exposed stomach, and if Arthur had been anyone else, he was sure that Dean would have gutted him just then, but being the Prince of Camelot didn't come easily. The years of relentless training he'd gone through paid off in that instant when without even thinking, his arm pulled his sword back and managed to deflect Dean's swing.

An almost inhuman growl passed Dean's lips and his eyes narrowed in anger as he stepped back once more.

Not willing to give the other Tribute any reprieve, Arthur led the offensive this time with a swing of his sword which was easily met with Dean's own blade. Breaking away, Arthur swept his sword upwards, but Dean was quick enough to bring his knife down and stop Arthur's attack again.

Spinning away, Arthur came up on Dean's side and attempted to slash him across the ribs, but with the grace of an experienced fighter Dean leapt backwards and retaliated with a kick to Arthur's shins. Satisfaction lit a fire in Dean's green eyes as his kick hit its target.

Pain flared up in his leg, but Arthur had dealt with far worse before, and without taking a moment to even register the hit, he was already swinging his sword up again. Apparently Dean had expected the kick to deter him, because he obviously wasn't prepared for the blade that swung towards his face.

Reeling back at the last possible moment, Dean saved himself from getting his head cleaved in two, but he wasn't fast enough to escape a rather large slash up his cheek. Red blood immediately welled to the surface and spilled down like small rivers. Dean spat a curse as he retreated back a few steps, his hand carefully tracing the wound on his face.

Seeing that Dean was preoccupied with his cut, Arthur took the moment to shift his weight to his other leg so that less pressure remained on his wounded one. A dull throb was quickly making itself known in his shin.

"Damn." Dean breathed, turning his eyes back to Arthur. "Where'd you learn to fight? Are you a Hunter?"

The question caught him off guard, and he lowered his sword slightly. "I'm no hunter. My name is Prince Arthur. And you? Declare yourself. What kingdom are you from?"

His question seemed to stump the other Tribute, who simply stared at Arthur with a look of utter confusion on his face. "I said declare yourself! Are you a knight? Surely you're not from Camelot; if you are I'll have you hanged for treason. You and your friend."

That seemed to strike at something primal in the other man, and in the next instant he was bringing his knife down towards Arthur's head. Battle hardened reflexes had his own blade rising to meet Dean's in a clash.

"I don't know what you've been smoking, but you threaten my brother again and I'll kill you, I swear. I don't care if you're the freaking king of Mars, don't you ever threaten my brother." Dean growled menacingly as he put more pressure on the knife, forcing Arthur's blade lower and lower.

He was beyond confused now, but he didn't have the time to ask more questions at the moment. With every second that passed his sword was pushed further and further down, consequently getting closer and closer to his face. Seeing no other way out, Arthur quickly rolled to the side and came up on Dean's side once more.

Jabbing with his sword, he attempted to cut into Dean's side again, but was thwarted a second time when Dean spun the knife in his hand and deflected the blade away.

Both Tributes were beginning to breathe heavier but neither was willing to give in yet. Just as they were about to ensue in battle once more, a huge blast of heat slammed into them like a wall and threw them both off their feet. The sensation of flying was abruptly ended when they slammed down into the earth a few feet away.

A thunderous noise followed that left Arthur's ears ringing painfully as he tried to gather his shattered wits. A painful cough ripped from his lungs and his hands clawed at the earth uselessly. Images failed to make sense as everything seemed to bleed together in one mess of colors.

Closing his eyes, Arthur took a deep breath and lay still for a while. The ringing in his ears continued loudly and for what felt like an eternity before it finally grew quiet again. Arthur opened his eyes experimentally to find the world once again as it should be.

Lifting his head from the grass to see what had caused such a thing, his eyes landed on the Cornucopia. Massive flames leapt into the air like clawed hands, grasping at the sky as the flames beneath burst forth hungrily. It only took a moment of confusion before he remembered _who_ was at the Cornucopia when it apparently exploded.

Every other question fled his mind at the prospect of Merlin, his best friend, being anywhere near that massive amount of fire and heat.

Dean seemed to have the same thought in his mind about Sam, and after briefly meeting each other's eyes; both Tributes forgot about their quarrel and shot to their feet. Practically matching Dean step for step, Arthur raced alongside him towards the roar of the flames.

**~()~()~()~()~**

Sam had no idea what Merlin was going to attempt to do with just his bare hands, but the way he held his palm out towards him gave Sam slight pause. The confidence in Merlin's blue eyes wouldn't be there if he didn't truly think he stood a chance, and the fact that it was confused Sam.

Readjusting his grip on the short sword in his hand, Sam resolved himself to fighting the young boy. With a speed unnatural to his height and bulk, the young Hunter slashed at Merlin's outstretched arm, aiming to deliver a deadly blow to the vital veins, but before the blade could make contact Sam found himself forcefully thrown backwards.

It felt as if a 16-wheeler had just slammed into his chest, and he wouldn't be surprised if he had a broken rib or two. All the air rushed out of his lungs as he crashed painfully into the ground and his vision grew dangerously dark for several seconds. For a moment his lungs refused to pull in air, but then the weight that was crushing him seemed to vanish and he drug in a lungful of air greedily.

Once he had somewhat regained his breath, Sam sat up on his elbows to stare incredulously at the boy before him. He could have sworn that Merlin's eyes had turned a brilliant gold seconds before he was thrown back, but cold blue was all that met his hazel ones now.

Grunting in pain, Sam heaved himself to his feet and brought the short sword out in front of him. Not even tossing him ten feet could make him lose his grip on his weapon; he was too hard trained for that.

"How…how did you _do_ that?" Sam gasped.

Regret seemed to flood Merlin's eyes, but his mouth remained stubbornly closed.

"Alright then, don't tell me." Sam tightened his grip on the short sword, preparing himself for a quick jab that would hopefully take Merlin out before he could use that ability again.

"Don't." Merlin said simply.

Not heeding Merlin's warning, Sam shifted his stance so that he could better attack the boy.

Resignation replaced the regret in Merlin's eyes as he spoke, "Gar onbærne."

Instantly, flames leapt into existence all along the length of Sam's weapon, superheating the metal to unbearable heat. Gasping in pain, Sam dropped the weapon on a bag of supplies at his feet. Almost instantaneously the bag was alight with orange flames that ate hungrily at the flammable surface.

Recoiling from the sudden fire, Sam backed up a few steps away from the mouth of the Cornucopia. He watched in horror as the flames jumped from one item to the next until almost every box and bag was smoldering with supernatural flames.

Out of the corner of his eye, Sam caught a glimpse of Merlin approaching the growing flames with his palm outstretched. His eyes were glowing gold and his mouth was moving frantically, but nothing was changing. Instead, the fire only jumped higher and higher until the whole mouth was on fire. For a second it looked like Sam was staring into the jaws of Hell itself, and the roaring of the flames sounded frighteningly similar to the roaring of a massive beast.

Fear stole his breath and he stumbled back several steps, the only thing keeping him from racing away in the other direction was Merlin.

Dean used to tell him that his compassion would get him killed one day, but he couldn't leave the boy in there to burn. Reversing the direction of his movement, he instead took several shaking yet determined steps towards the fire in the hopes of finding Merlin and dragging them both out to safety.

Before he managed to take five steps, however, the whole world exploded in front of him. He was thrown off the ground and sent flying through the air as the heat of the explosion chased after him. Smashing into the ground, Sam's head collided with the hard earth and all the lights went off in his mind.

…

He was floating in painless darkness when the voice roused him. It was simply noise at first and Sam waved it away, but it kept returning like an annoying gnat. It was disturbing his peaceful rest and he wanted it to stop.

Turning his head in the darkness, he attempted to find the source of the noise.

"-am!" the voice called.

It sounded vaguely familiar, but Sam couldn't put his finger on where he had heard it before. Curious now, Sam stopped moving and focused on listening harder.

"Sam!" the voice was louder this time.

"Open your eyes, dammit!" the familiar voice ordered.

Why did it sound so familiar? That voice…Dean!

Sam's hazel eyes flew open and he shot into a sitting position, his brother's name on his lips. The nausea that hit him was unexpected, and he would have fallen back again if not for the strong hands on his shoulders.

Slowly, Dean's face came into focus in front of him, and a small smile broke out on his face at the sight. There was a long vertical cut running up Dean's cheek, but other than that he looked unharmed.

"Why are you staring?" Sam asked, slightly disoriented.

"Maybe because you almost got blown up." Dean put his hands under Sam's arms and pulled him to his feet, letting Sam lean on him when he stumbled.

Dean's words struck a memory in his mind, and suddenly he was flooded with the events of what had just taken place.

"Oh my God, what about Merlin? I was going to get him out but the Cornucopia…" Sam started to say but fell silent as he gazed at the black smoke lifting away from the fire like a demon.

"Merlin? That kid? What does it matter what happens to him? I think that Arthur guy went to look for him. I'm just glad that you're okay, Sam. Do you know how close that was? If you had been only a few steps closer you would have died." The seriousness in his brother's tone had Sam's attention returning to Dean.

"It's okay, Dean. I'm fine." While his head hurt like Hell, Sam was pretty sure that he actually _was_ fine, by some sort of miracle.

Dean seemed to sense the truth in that statement because he reluctantly nodded and tugged at Sam's arm. "We need to go. The supplies are gone anyways; it's no use trying to get through all that fire. Let's just retreat for now and regroup. You need some rest."

"What? No, Dean we can't just leave them."

"We can't leave them? Are you serious, Sam? They're trying to kill us! If they kill themselves in that fire then it's better for us. You heard that lady, we don't get to leave this place until everyone else is dead."

Sam turned his hazel eyes on his brother, "Exactly, Dean. Until everyone else is dead. Only one of us can leave. You know what that means."

Dean caught onto Sam's implications immediately, but he refused to accept it and began shaking his head. "No, Sam. We're both getting out of here."

"_No_, Dean. We aren't. Our best bet is to stick together. If we all stick together then maybe we can think of a way to get out of here, but if we go around killing each other then we're just giving these freaks what they want. They _want_ to see us kill each other. Is that what you want, Dean? You want to be some pawn in this sick game of theirs?"

Sam knew he had gotten through to Dean when his brother cursed softly to himself. "Fine, Sam, but if they try and kill us I'm not giving them a second chance."

Smiling to himself at the personal victory, Sam nodded and pointed towards the burning Cornucopia. "Then we need to help Arthur. Now."

Dean rolled his eyes but complied nevertheless. Once he was sure that Sam could walk on his own, he took off at a quick jog towards the flames, covering his nose and mouth with his sleeved arm.

Sam split off to Dean's right so they could cover more ground before covering his own face and charging into the fire.

The heat alone was practically unbearable, but the dancing flames made it almost impossible to move around safely. The sting of the smoke burned his eyes and he soon found tears streaming down his face, but he still didn't stop his advance. Angry tendrils of fire clawed at him, desperately searching for something fresh to burn as Sam made his way through the wreckage.

Dodging around a burning crate, Sam jumped over another smoldering box before tripping over something at his feet. Throwing his arms out to stop his fall, Sam landed on all fours on the scorching earth. With nothing left to protect his breathing from the smoke, he broke out in ragged coughs as he inhaled the poisonous gas.

The coughing refused to let up, and eventually Sam decided that he couldn't stay anymore. Turning around, he made ready to go back when he caught sight of the object that tripped him in the first place. At first he couldn't make out the object, but the red neckerchief stood out and Sam almost cried out in joy at his sheer luck.

Bending over, Sam scooped the smaller boy into his arms and ran as fast as he could out of the flames. He didn't stop running until the blazing heat was no more than simple warmth at his back.

The instant he deemed them both safe, Sam collapsed to his knees in the grass and laid the boy down before another coughing fit stole his breath as his lungs struggled to expel the heavy smoke.

As soon as it passed, he reached over and shook Merlin's shoulder gently, hoping to elicit some sort of reaction. A cough soon ripped out of Merlin's abused lungs, and as if that were some sort of trigger he was suddenly coughing relentlessly.

Unsure of what else to do to help, Sam simply sat back and watched as Merlin's eyes flew open, revealing dazzling gold irises. Taken aback at the unusual color, Sam recoiled slightly, expecting another magic attack of sorts, but Merlin simply mouthed a few inaudible words to himself.

Whatever he said must have been a healing spell of sorts, because his coughing stopped completely, and he sat up looking rather unharmed despite the black soot covering his face and clothes.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked cautiously, unsure of what Merlin was capable of.

Blue eyes landed on Sam's face, shock registering in them for a second before being replaced by what Sam could only describe as gratefulness.

"Yeah, I'm fine now." Merlin smiled happily, looking boyish and young. "I think I have you to thank for that?"

Sam was a complete loss for words. Only an hour ago they were fighting each other, and now he was smiling and thanking him?

"Uh…well…you're the one who…you know." He made a vague sort of waving gesture.

The smile still didn't leave Merlin's face; in fact it only seemed to grow bigger. "I used magic, yeah, but you're the one who got me out of there, so thanks."

"You're welcome?" Sam said, not sure what else to say. Merlin had just admitted that he used magic. At first Sam had just thought it a strange coincidence, but after watching Arthur fight with that sword, and now Merlin was admitting he used magic?

The old Arthurian legends kept coming to his mind, but there was no way that the real King Arthur and Merlin were here. Hell, no one even knew if they really ever existed or not.

"Oh, but please don't tell Arthur that I have magic. He can't know." Merlin's voice broke into Sam's train of thought.

Eying the boy in front of him, Sam contemplated if it were possible that he was the real Merlin spoken of in the legends. "Sure. I won't tell him anything." Sam promised, thoroughly intrigued by the dark haired, blue eyed young man in front of him.

"Sam!" Sam heard his brother call. Turning his head, he saw Dean jogging over to him with Arthur in tow.

Upon seeing Merlin up and aware, Arthur picked up his pace and sped past Dean to kneel in front of him.

Without saying anything, Arthur grabbed Merlin's head in his hands and turned it from side to side, inspecting his friend to make sure he was really okay.

"You idiot." Arthur said seriously, before bellying the harsh statement with an affectionate hair ruffle.

"How the Hell did that happen? Why did the Cornucopia explode?" Arthur asked, shifting his gaze between Merlin and Sam.

Sam met Merlin's eyes for a brief moment before turning towards Arthur. "Um, we're not really sure. Maybe there was a bomb?"

Arthur's expression morphed from guarded concern to one of plain confusion. "A bomb?" he asked, exchanging a glance with Merlin. "What's a bomb? Some form of sorcery?"

The confused shrug Merlin gave in reply said he genuinely didn't know either.

Sam slid his eyes towards Dean, raising his eyebrows in silent question, but Dean looked just as lost as he did.

"Uh, nevermind." Sam deflected, searching desperately for a change of topic.

"Well, thank you." Arthur spoke up, beating Sam to it.

"Thank you? For what?"

"For saving my idiot servant. If you hadn't gone back for him, then I fear the idiot would have gotten himself killed." Genuine relief flitted across the Prince's face for a moment before it was expertly concealed.

"Yeah, and thanks to Sam here," Dean strode forwards and clasped his hand on Sam's shoulder, "we're not enemies anymore."

"We aren't?" Merlin asked, glancing at Arthur again.

"We don't _have_ to be." Sam said, conviction lacing his voice. "Why should we kill each other simply because some woman said so? I told Dean earlier that we should be searching for a way out of here, not wasting our time trying to kill each other. If we all work together then I'm sure we can figure something out."

A pregnant pause filled the air as both Merlin and Arthur thought it through. Glancing at each other, an understanding seemed to pass between them and they turned to face the Winchesters again.

"You're right. You know, you're smarter than you look." Arthur pushed up off the ground to join Dean in standing.

An offended look crossed Sam's face as he too stood from the hard ground.

"He means that as a compliment. Even if it doesn't seem like it." Merlin spoke up with a grin, rising to stand next to Arthur.

"Alright, alright, let's get out of here." Dean pivoted and took off towards the vast forest, the other Tributes quickly falling into step beside him.

Looking to his left, Sam took in the sight of his brother, Merlin, and Arthur all striding forward in tandem, bloodstained and covered in dirt and soot, and if anyone really _was_ watching them right now, with the roaring flames at their backs, then Sam would bet all his money that they were a sight to behold.

**More Sherlock and John next chapter, don't worry, I just had to establish this alliance because I feel like if something like this were to happen, then Dean, Sam, Arthur, and Merlin would get along fairly well. Minus the control freak part that will no doubt come into play between Dean and Arthur, but that's later. Well, thanks for reading. Until next time ~ Thorn**


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